


Comfort and Joy

by doctorhelena



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Wartime Romance, minor Edwin Jarvis/Ana Jarvis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 06:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: Peggy had never once regretted taking a leap of faith in Steve Rogers.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 42
Kudos: 85





	1. In Which There is Convenient Mistletoe and Inconvenient Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BuckyWithTheGoodHair86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyWithTheGoodHair86/gifts).



> This is a very late Steggy Secret Santa gift for the fabulous (and very patient) [BuckyWithTheGoodHair86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyWithTheGoodHair86/pseuds/BuckyWithTheGoodHair86). Hopefully the ~30k length will help make up for the lateness!
> 
> The story is complete, and a new chapter will be posted every Wednesday.

_Washington DC, December 24, 1949_

This was certainly, Peggy thought as she dug her keys out of her purse, every bit as badly-timed and bound to irritate Colonel Phillips as anything she and Steve had gotten up to during the war. But then again, she’d often suspected Phillips of secretly rather enjoying grumbling about the two of them. He might, she thought, have actually rather missed it after Steve's presumed death.

At any rate, he was welcome to grumble. Peggy had never once regretted taking a leap of faith in Steve Rogers.

She smiled as she shuffled her boots on the mat, shaking snow out of her hair and hanging her coat carefully in the cupboard. Christmases since the war had been rather melancholy for her thus far, but this year was promising to be another matter entirely, Steve Rogers having recently taken a rather giant leap of faith of his own.

“I’m home,” she called into the silent house which, to her quiet joy, no longer felt at all empty, and Steve called back a moment later from the basement.

“I’m wrapping something. Stay there, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Peggy smiled. Somehow, with so much happening at work and, for a lovely change, in her personal life too, it had only occurred to her yesterday that she had another occasion besides Christmas to shop for this year. She wondered if, in all of the recent chaos, it might have only just occurred to him as well. It had been even longer, after all, for him, than it had been for her.

_\--_

_Northern Italy, December 24 1944_

The Hydra base had been well-hidden in the foothills of the Alps just northwest of Turin, but the Howling Commandos had managed to take it entirely by surprise. They’d gathered what intel they could and, despite a rather close call with the timing of Dernier’s explosives, emerged entirely unscathed, leaving the facility in smoking ruins before splitting up into pairs to unobtrusively make their way back to Allied territory. 

Although their reports were always a little vague on the matter, Peggy suspected Colonel Phillips was perfectly aware that she and Steve were generally partnered together when the team split up into pairs like this. The man, after all, certainly hadn’t been given command of the SSR for his ready charm and winning smile. In the end, though, as long as it didn’t get in the way of their relentless, piece-by-piece destruction of Hydra, he seemed willing not to ask too many questions.

Phillips’ faith in them was certainly not misplaced. But, if he also harboured the sneaking suspicion that they very much enjoyed these rare chances to spend unavoidably idle evenings together, he was also entirely correct.

After stowing their things in the farmhouse cellar where they’d be spending the night, Peggy and Steve were invited upstairs for dinner where their hosts not only cheerfully overran all objections about their intrusion on the family’s Christmas Eve meal, but further invited them to wait upstairs in the warm parlour while the family was off at Midnight Mass - provided they sat quietly in the dark to avoid detection.

It was indeed much warmer upstairs than it was in the cellar, and the quiet darkness, once their hosts had departed for church, somehow only made everything feel pleasantly cozy. Peggy rested her head on Steve's shoulder, he slid an arm around her, and they simply sat there for a long while, quiet and warm and content. They so rarely had an opportunity to just be together like this with no pressing matters to attend to, and very little danger of being caught by the wrong person in an act of physical affection.

Steve finally broke the silence, brushing a finger against Peggy’s cheek. “For a few minutes there today, I really thought you might not make it out in time,” he said, his quiet voice not quite hiding the depths of feeling it contained.

“I know,” said Peggy. It had, in fact, been a very close call, and she hadn’t much enjoyed it either. “But,” she added briskly, “it simply doesn’t do to dwell on that sort of thing. I did make it out, and we’re here now, together. Alone, for once,” she added with a kiss on his cheek, and then another, somewhat less innocent, at the side of his mouth.

“Peggy.”

“Yes?” she asked, her lips still pressed against his jaw.

She could feel Steve steadying himself, taking a fortifying breath. “Hold on a sec. I’m - I'm trying to ask you something.”

Peggy didn’t particularly want to think any longer just now about how terribly close she’d come to going up in flames with the Hydra base, even if Steve seemed firmly intent on discussing it. “Sometimes,” she said, resigning herself to the conversation, “it simply doesn’t matter how careful we are. I know you want to keep me alive and safe, and I very much want to do the same for you. But we both know that until we stop Schmidt, we can't - ”

“I know,” said Steve, squeezing her shoulders gently with the arm that was already wrapped around her. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask.” He took a breath. “I just - ” he cleared his throat. “Peggy, I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. And sometimes I think - ” 

“I know,” Peggy said quietly, and linked her fingers with his. “But I hope you know that I love you too, with all my heart. So I’m afraid it’s far too late to do anything about _that_. As inconvenient as it may be at times, I'm afraid it's permanent.”

She could hear the sudden grin in his voice. “Yeah, I know. Stop interrupting, Agent Carter. That wasn’t what I was going to say either.”

“What, then?” she asked.

Steve slid his arm from around her shoulders and took both of her hands in his. She blinked. “Margaret Elizabeth Carter,” he said, in his formal Captain America voice. “We've both found the right partner, so what are we waiting for?” Her breath caught, suddenly, as he squeezed her hands. “We both know we want to get married when this is all over. And we both know how dangerous our missions can be. Let’s - let’s not wait until it’s too late.”

Peggy stared at him in the darkness, feeling a breathless thrill at the idea despite her better judgement. It would, in fact, be technically allowed - she worked for the SSR and he for the US Army, and neither actually outranked the other. But by the same token, such a thing would not, she knew, come without serious consequence to her position. 

“Darling, I - ” she bit her lip, because she wanted so badly to jump in with both feet and dare the universe to try to stop them. This wasn’t like the rescue mission to Krausberg, though. Marrying Steve would do nothing to advance the war effort, nothing to save any captured soldiers, nothing to rescue the last of Dr. Erskine’s hard work and save the SSR's best hope from a life as a dancing monkey. It would just - be lovely. 

And then she’d probably not see him again for months.

Steve brought their linked hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I can hear the gears turning in your head,” he said, not sounding at all put out about it - which was one of the many reasons she loved him.

“I just - I don’t know that either of us would particularly like the consequences,” Peggy said finally. “I suppose I’d probably be able to continue on as an SSR agent, or at least go back to the SOE, but I certainly wouldn’t be allowed to continue as your liaison. And it would be nearly impossible to convince anyone to send us into the field together.” She took in a slow breath. “We’re so close to getting Schmidt, and - I’d very much like to be there to see it through.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve said, slowly. “I guess _that’s_ what we’re waiting for.”

Peggy rested her head on his shoulder again. “I’ve thought about it. Whether we could manage to marry in secret,” she confessed. “But - it would be very difficult to circumvent the paper trail. I don’t know anyone who’s in a position to help us do it, and I don’t particularly want to risk attracting attention by putting out feelers among people that I do know. We’re already on thin ice after the compass incident, and I suspect that Phillips’ ability to officially look the other way can only extend so far.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, I know,” he said, earnestly, although he sounded a little deflated. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“I wish you weren’t so bloody well-known,” she said, after a moment. “Or that it was possible to marry in England without having to give weeks of public notice first. We _could_ apply for an exemption, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t actually do much to keep us below the radar. Loose lips might sink ships, but the request would pass through enough hands that word about Captain America’s impending nuptials would almost certainly get around.”

Steve made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe I could change my name. How would you feel about marrying a guy named Grant Stevens?”

Peggy snorted, despite herself. “Grant Roger Stevens, my mysterious American husband. I must say your parents certainly equipped you well in the last name department.”

“Huh, yeah, I guess they did,” he said, sounding oddly enamoured by the discovery.

Peggy smiled. “All in all, I’d prefer to marry Steven Grant Rogers,” she said, nuzzling into his side again. “Oh, there’s another thing too. Because we’re both in the service, we’d need written permission from our commanding officers. And I don’t know about you, but - ”

“Phillips might give it, if we could figure out the rest,” said Steve, thoughtfully. “He’d yell a lot first, but - ”

“Maybe,” said Peggy, consideringly. “But that’s rather academic at this point.”

Steve kissed her forehead. “Well, we’re closing in on Schmidt, and Hitler too. Maybe by this time next year the war will be over, and we'll be spending Christmas Eve in our own living room. No blackout. A big Christmas tree. Maybe a dog, sleeping by our feet. A couple of kids - ”

Peggy snorted. “Rogers, I’m sorry to inform you that I most certainly don’t intend to spend most of the coming year producing twins, who by any stretch of the imagination would, by next year, be far too young to understand that it’s Christmas.” 

“I - yeah, I might have been getting a bit ahead of myself there,” Steve admitted.

“ _Might?_ ” asked Peggy, dryly.

Steve twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “We’ll have years and years to have kids once the war is over. Or not. As long as we have each other, I’ll be happy.”

Peggy smiled. “And in the meantime,” she said, her voice dropping lower, “we do have each other, right now. Alone, together, in the dark. And all we seem to be doing is talking.”

“Well, I hear it’s the best way to avoid unexpected twins,” Steve said, and Peggy elbowed him. He laughed and took her face in both hands, kissing her thoroughly before pulling back a tiny bit, their lips still inches apart. “I know it’s dark in here, and you probably can’t see it, but did you know there’s mistletoe up on the ceiling?” 

“I didn’t,” said Peggy, somewhat huskily. “But I don’t think it’s necessary in any case.” She leaned forward and met his lips with hers again, a long, slow, open-mouthed exploration of the sort they rarely had the opportunity to indulge in. The settee was comfortable, the room was warm despite the snow outside, and their hosts were likely to be out for quite some time yet, particularly if they were blessed with a long-winded priest.

Steve’s hands and lips began to roam a little, and Peggy moved breathlessly to straddle his lap as he ran his warm palms up her sides, all the while pressing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, behind her ear, in the crook of her neck. He was bolder than usual, here in the quiet darkness, and Peggy made an almost embarrassing noise of appreciation as his thumb brushed over the side of her breast.

“This okay?” he asked, his voice a husky rumble, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Yes,” she agreed, a little hoarsely. “I - oh _Steve._ ” Her sense of whatever it was she’d been about to say was entirely lost as his hands moved fully over her breasts, and she arched into him shamelessly, trying very hard to stay mindful of the need to be quiet while the house was supposed to be empty. 

Talking, she decided, wasn’t particularly important just now, and she leaned forward to meet his mouth with hers again instead, reaching down with one hand to slowly tug his shirt out of his waistband. Steve’s fingers were on the buttons of her blouse now, and her hands in turn were sliding under his shirt, carefully tugging at the undershirt beneath until she met with the warm skin of his ridiculously perfect midriff.

“Peggy,” Steve said suddenly, his hands pausing on the last button.

“Yes, darling?” she whispered, one hand flat on his chest inside his shirt. She was fully prepared to present a case for the view that, under the circumstances, they were well within their rights to proceed as though they were, in fact, married. She thought he might not be particularly difficult to convince.

He sighed. “I think I hear something outside.”

Peggy swore eloquently, and Steve huffed out a sudden laugh as she hastily rolled off him, fumbling to rebutton her blouse as he tucked in his shirt. In the best case scenario their hosts were back from Mass already, but she didn’t think she and Steve could have lost track of time quite that badly.

There was a knock at the door, and they both froze, listening intently. It might be all right. The occupants of the house were out, in a church full of witnesses, and whoever was at the door might simply go away, but - 

Steve abruptly stood up. “It’s Bucky and Dum Dum.”

Her blouse finally buttoned, Peggy followed him to the door. “What’s happened?” she asked their visitors without preamble, the moment they were inside.

“Couldn’t get to our safehouse,” said Dugan with a shrug. “The whole area’s crawling with Wehrmacht. We got away before they noticed us, but we didn’t have anywhere else to go, and it’s a bit too cold to freeze our asses off in the woods all night.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, it was either here or the convent, and it seems rude to bother nuns on Christmas Eve.” He grinned. “Also, nuns never like Dum Dum for some reason.”

“By all rights they shouldn’t like you either, Sergeant Barnes,” said Peggy severely, then smiled at them both. “Well, I suppose you can join us in the cellar for the night. God only knows why, but I like you both.”

\--

The cellar was cold and a little damp, but it had the advantage of having no windows at all, which meant that they could safely have light. Peggy switched on her torch as soon as she’d closed the door behind her, illuminating the way down the stairs. She and Steve had already spread their bedrolls out on the packed-earth floor, and Bucky eyed them with a barely-hidden smirk when he saw how close together they’d placed them.

“Well, this is cozy. Hope we aren’t cramping your style.”

Dugan grinned. “Pretty sure we are. Either that, or Cap’s been experimenting with lipstick.”

The cold weather, Peggy reflected, could provide a somewhat legitimate excuse for the bedroll situation, but there was really no other explanation for the lipstick. And besides, Steve had a terrible poker face.

“It - there was mistletoe upstairs,” he told them, his ears turning red, and both Bucky and Dugan laughed out loud.

“Well, it’s a good thing we got here when we did,” said Bucky, setting down his pack. “Agent Carter here is clearly doing a terrible job of protecting Captain America’s virtue.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at him. “His virtue is entirely unrelated to any mistletoe-related activities, as you are perfectly aware, Sargent Barnes.”

“So,” Steve said a little too loudly, holding up the cribbage board their hosts had been kind enough to leave for them. “Anyone up for a game?”

Card games were a common diversion among the Howling Commandos. With the efficiency of long habit they arranged the bedrolls so that they could sit in a circle on the cold floor, and then Peggy shuffled the cards as Dugan rummaged around in his pack to produce his flask. “Got some of the good stuff from Stark. Early Christmas present.” He took a swig and passed it to Bucky, who did the same before passing it to Peggy. She relished the burn of the strong bourbon as it slid down her throat, warming her from the inside out. It was, in fact, of surprisingly good quality, although when her hand brushed against Steve’s as she passed him the flask she rather uncharitably wished that Bucky and Dugan were drinking it somewhere else. 

“So,” said Bucky cheerfully, after an interval of relatively focused cribbage playing. “Am I going to be the first to point out that Carter’s blouse is buttoned wrong?” He smirked at the two of them.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” said Dugan, moving his peg along the board. “ Like I said, it’s Christmas Eve. Also, I don’t feel like getting punched.” He eyed Peggy, his lips twitching below his mustache.

Peggy ignored them both, but she knew without looking that Steve’s ears were turning red again.

“What would Sister Mary Catherine think?” Bucky shook his head sadly as he examined his cards. “Steve Rogers, former altar boy, getting to second base with his girl and not even engaged, let alone married.”

All at once Peggy felt her own cheeks flush. Both Bucky and Dugan blinked at her in surprise. “Oh, be quiet, both of you,” she said. “I’m decidedly not Catholic, so I don’t expect Sister Mary Catherine would approve regardless.”

There was a long, fascinated silence. “Did - did you two get married without telling us?” Bucky demanded.

"No! Of course not," said Steve indignantly. He cleared his throat. “We - we can’t figure out a way to do it without getting Peggy reassigned.” he admitted, more quietly.

Bucky and Dugan were still staring at them. “Were you going to tell us?” asked Bucky, sounding a little hurt.

“I wouldn’t get engaged without telling you, you jerk,” said Steve, although Peggy suspected that he, like herself, hadn’t actually been planning to mention it until they’d been caught. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter because we’re going to have to wait.”

Dugan took a thoughtful swig from the flask. “Look,” he said. “Peggy almost bought it today, and it was just a regular Sunday for us. If you two really want to get hitched, you should do it. Screw the army and the SSR. We’re all already way past our life expectancies.”

“I know,” said Peggy, feeling Steve’s fingers quietly lace into hers, “but quite frankly, if it comes down to it, getting married would mean being separated, and we’d both rather have each other’s company.”

Bucky looked at her thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you just - ” he waved his hand. “Spy stuff?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Peggy. “I simply don’t have the right connections to bury the paperwork, and calling in favours from friends of friends is a risk I don’t think is particularly justified. But - things will be different after the war.” She extracted her hand from Steve’s, picked up her cards, counted her points, and moved her peg forward. “And you, Sergeant Barnes, are in imminent danger of being skunked.”

“Oh, you’d think so,” he said, with a grin, tapping the cards he held in his hand. “But you don’t know everything, Agent Carter.”


	2. In Which Howard Is Very Howard

_London, December 26 1944_

“Peggy!” Howard Stark hissed, grabbing her elbow as they both left the map room. He looked swiftly around the corridor, then tugged her into an empty office, closing the door behind them.

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “I certainly hope you’re not expecting a kiss.”

Howard grinned at her. “Even I know better that that, Peg. But I hear _you’ve_ been doing a lot of kissing lately.” Peggy’s other eyebrow went up. “No, look,” he said. “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Peggy, feeling that she didn’t quite have her footing in this conversation. “As you may have noticed, I didn’t get you anything either.”

Howard waved an unconcerned hand. “It’s fine. The point is, I have something for you now.”

“All right,” said Peggy, cautiously. “What - ”

Howard grinned. “It’s a bit hard to wrap. But, to start out, I’m going to lend you my butler.”

Peggy blinked at him. “Your _butler_? To _start out_? What on earth would I do with a butler, Howard? I share a tiny flat that’s barely large enough to swing a cat in, and that’s when I’m in London, which is not terribly often.”

“This particular butler has some special skills I think you’ll appreciate,” said Howard. He raised an amused eyebrow at the look she gave him. “And if you think I meant something dirty by that, it’s all on you, pal.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes further.

“Look,” Howard said, hastily. “Just meet me at the Whip and Fiddle tonight, 8:00. I’ll explain everything then. I’m buying,” he added, waggling his eyebrows. 

Peggy pursed her lips. Howard was often rather eccentric, but he was also a good friend, and she had to admit he’d piqued her curiosity. “All right,” she agreed. “I'll come, but I certainly hope you'll be springing for the good stuff.” 

“You know me, Peg,” he said. “I always spring for the good stuff.”

He looked rather alarmingly pleased with himself, she thought, but it wouldn’t be much of an imposition to meet him at the pub, as she and Steve had already planned to meet the Howling Commandos there that evening. Even if they’d slightly overshot Christmas itself, the first night of a full forty-eight hours of leave was certainly something to celebrate.

\--

Peggy stayed behind to finish the last of her paperwork before joining the others, and arrived at the Whip and Fiddle to find Steve and the Howling Commandos already at their usual table along with Howard and a tall, dark-haired man who she supposed must be his butler. She hadn’t previously been aware that Howard _had_ a butler, although she didn’t really know why it had surprised her.

“Next round’s on me,” Howard announced loudly, standing up to let Peggy squeeze in next to Steve. A cheer arose from the table, and Howard sat back down and signalled to his butler. “Jarvis, another round for everyone. And a - whiskey for Peg?” Jarvis looked to Peggy for confirmation, and she nodded, subtly taking the man's measure. He was rather prim-looking and seemed somewhat tightly-wound, although there was also the hint of a suppressed twinkle in his eye. As he departed for the bar Howard nudged her. “Told you a butler can come in handy.”

Peggy gave him a look. “Howard, I don’t need a butler to fetch my drinks for me at the pub. Any number of the men in this room would no doubt be happy to do it, if I were so inclined. Which I am not.”

Howard grinned. “I won’t dispute that,” he said. “But you and Steve need to have a little chit-chat with Jarvis, and the drinks will create a diversion.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do Steve and I need to - ”

“Hang on a sec.” Howard held up a silencing hand and leaned forward to smile winningly at a pretty blonde girl in a blue dress that was slightly too tight in some places and a little too loose in others - not terribly uncommon in these days of rationed clothing, when dresses of the sort one might wear out dancing were hard to come by and were often shared amongst groups of friends. The girl winked back at Howard over her shoulder as she passed by, and Howard leaned out to watch her go.

Peggy leaned back in her seat, resigned to a wait. “Hi,” said Steve, in her ear, and she turned to smile at him. There was an errant lock of hair falling over his forehead that she wanted very badly to reach up and brush away, but she contented herself instead with nearly imperceptibly nudging her leg against his beneath the table. He smiled back at her and quietly moved his hand, also under the table, to squeeze her knee.

It seemed, somehow, a very short time before Jarvis returned with the drinks and Howard stood up again to give him the seat next to Peggy. “Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, meet my butler, Edwin Jarvis.” 

“Agent Carter, Captain Rogers, I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Jarvis courteously, under the din of the Howling Commandos' longstanding argument over whether beer was meant to be served warm - which did, Peggy had to admit, add considerably to the volume of the already-noisy pub. She took Jarvis’ proffered hand and shook politely, then turned back to Howard as Steve reached across her to shake Jarvis’ hand. 

Howard grinned at her. “Now, I hear you two lovebirds have a problem. Personally, I don’t see the appeal in the slightest, but to each their own - I’m certainly not a man to judge. So I put Jarvis on the case, and he thinks he can help you.”

“Howard, what in God's name are you talking about?” asked Peggy, suddenly very afraid she was going to need every drop of the whiskey in her glass.

Howard's grin became a smirk. “The fact that you and Rogers would like to tie the knot.”

“What on earth gave you that idea?” she asked, both eyebrows raised.

Howard was still smirking, and she could tell from his face that Steve, behind her, had reacted far more satisfactorily than she had. “Well, it was a few things, really. I'm more observant than you think, you know. For example, I haven't missed the fact that he's got his hand on your leg under the table as we speak.” Steve started guiltily, and Howard grinned. “Hey, I’m not judging, pal. Peggy's got a spectacular set of gams.” 

Jarvis shot Howard a repressive glance. “Really, sir, I don’t - ”

“Oh, fine,” said Howard. “I got the idea when Barnes and Dugan came and told me everything.” 

Peggy’s mouth dropped open. “They _what_?”

“I - dammit, Buck.” Steve shot Bucky a look that might have killed, had Erskine’s serum given him that ability. He rather looked like he wished it had.

Howard waved a hand. “Relax. They knew I could keep my mouth shut.” Peggy and Steve turned their heads, as one, to regard him skeptically. “Oh, come on,” he protested, wounded. “My security clearance is just as high as yours, Peg. I can keep my lips buttoned when it matters.” He shrugged. “I just sometimes disagree on what matters.”

Peggy and Steve shared a brief, unspoken consultation, during which Peggy found herself far too distracted by Steve's warm hand, still resting on her knee. She forced her attention back to Howard. “Just to be clear,” she told him, “this matters a great deal.”

Howard nodded, also serious for once. “I know. None of us wants you reassigned, Peg. But everyone at this table wants to help you and Rogers get hitched, if that’s what you really want.” He patted her hand and gave her one of his rare genuine smiles. “Believe me, we’re all rooting for you crazy kids.”

Steve squeezed Peggy’s knee, and she reached down to lace her fingers through his. “All right,” she said, finally. “Tell us what you have in mind.”

“Mmm,” said Howard, his eyes already on a passing brunette in a green dress, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Jarvis, tell them.” Peggy rolled her eyes. Howard was a good friend, but he certainly required a great deal of patience at times.

Jarvis cleared his throat, looking slightly chagrined. “I must apologize,” he said. “Mr. Stark can be somewhat - ”

“... somewhat _Howard_ ,” Peggy finished for him, and Jarvis nodded, a tiny smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Indeed. At times.” He regarded Peggy and Steve solemnly. “However, I owe a great deal to him - in fact, I would wager it isn't an exaggeration to say I owe him my life, and very likely that of my wife as well. A story for another time,” he added, when Peggy opened her mouth to inquire further. Jarvis smiled at her, and then at Steve. “The crux of the matter is that, after a number of unpleasant adventures, my wife and I are deliriously happy together, and I would be delighted to help the two of you achieve a similar state of matrimonial bliss.” He cleared his throat. “I must tell you that Mr. Stark holds you both in the very highest esteem.”

Peggy exchanged a bemused look with Steve. “Thanks,” said Steve, “but I’m not sure what you can do. If Peggy couldn’t find a way, I don’t know if there's - ”

“Captain Rogers, I have absolutely no doubt that Agent Carter is highly skilled at her craft,” said Jarvis with apparent sincerity, and Peggy made a peeved note to remind Howard that his butler did not, in fact, have the same security clearance that he did. “However,” and here Jarvis turned to speak directly to Peggy, which did earn him a point in her favour, “I believe you may lack several specific elements of hard-won experience that I have had the misfortune to acquire.” All at once the corners of his mouth curved upwards again. “And more importantly, I believe you also may lack my trusted contacts in the General Register Office.” His almost smug look was tempered by the hint of a twinkle and, against her better judgement, Peggy found herself rather liking him.

It briefly crossed her mind to mention that she had more experience in the area of wedding planning than Jarvis might assume. But then, her engagement to Fred had been perfectly uncomplicated, aside from the small matter of the bride realizing just in time that the whole thing was a dreadful mistake, and her mother had certainly taken control of a great deal of the minutiae. “The quietest way, perhaps, would be to apply for a special license,” she said, instead. “But even that - ”

Jarvis nodded. “One of the many things I’ve learned from experience, Agent Carter, is never to file the papers.”

Peggy blinked at him.

“As I mentioned, I have several trustworthy contacts in the General Register Office,” said Jarvis. “Your paperwork will be held until such a time as it is prudent to file it, properly dated of course. The 28 day waiting period will be retroactively assumed to have occurred.”

Steve looked thoughtful. “And what about the permission from our commanding officer?”

“Well,” said Jarvis, looking suddenly peeved. “We certainly could have found a way around that.”

“Could have?” asked Peggy, suddenly alarmed.

Howard leaned in. “Okay, first of all, don’t shoot me.”

“Howard,” asked Peggy, slowly and dangerously. “What have you done?”

\--

_London, December 27 1944_

“Close the door and sit down, both of you,” said Phillips sternly. Peggy and Steve exchanged a wary glance and obeyed, seating themselves side by side in the two chairs on the visitor’s side of Phillips’ desk.

“Are we being recalled from leave?” asked Peggy. “Because if not, sir, with all due respect we’re both on 48 hour passes, and I was - ”

Phillips gave her a sour look. “Save it, Carter. Stark told me everything.”

“He told you before he told us,” Steve said, dryly.

“There’s nothing to tell,” said Peggy at the same time. She leaned forward. “Sir. Stark didn’t bother to consult with either Captain Rogers or myself before taking it upon himself to make the - the arrangements that he did. I know you’re perfectly aware that this sort of misdirected and often dangerous enthusiasm is absolutely typical of the man.”

“Stark’s a loose cannon, and a damned pain in my ass,” agreed Phillips. “But we all know that a wedding isn’t exactly his usual brand of shenanigan.” He snorted. “The man's allergic to the concept.” 

Peggy took a slow breath. This was, unfortunately, a very good point.

Phillips leaned forward. “Now, I don’t know what the _hell_ you two have been planning, but I promise you right now that if I’m forced to reassign one of you nobody is going to enjoy the experience. I need you both, which means you both need _not to do anything stupid_ right now. Which I realize is a damned tall order when it comes to you two idiots.” He narrowed his eyes at Peggy. “Carter, please tell me you're not pregnant.”

Peggy's eyebrows rose to the ceiling, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Steve’s eyes widen. “Of course not,” she snapped, suddenly furious. “What kind of question is that?”

“A reasonable one, under the circumstances,” said Phillips, sharply, not budging an inch.

Peggy took a deep breath. “Sir, I am well aware of the persistent rumours about a romantic relationship between myself and Captain Rogers. But I am also aware, as I think you are too, that prevailing gossip in the SSR has, at various times, had me fraternizing with Howard Stark, several of the Howling Commandos, and even you, sir. As one of the very few women in my position, it’s simply a hazard of the job.”

Phillips narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully, then turned to fix his gaze on Steve. “Son, I’m going to ask you a simple yes or no question. Are you and Agent Carter engaged to be married?”

Steve flushed. “It's- not - ” he said, helplessly, and Phillips snorted.

“Right. Look, I’m not blind. I try to look the other way when the two of you make eyes at each other, because somehow, despite your questionable ability to follow orders, you get damned good results. And I like to think you’re both smart enough not to get yourselves into trouble. Or, at least, not that kind of trouble.” He glared at them. “But I sure as hell don’t need my most effective team of commandos broken up just because the two of you decided you just couldn’t wait to make things official. Nor do I need anything even remotely like a repeat of the compass incident. The press loves Captain America, and _you_ , Agent Carter, are a spy who, I shouldn’t need to remind you, needs to keep her damned picture out of the press.”

Peggy took a deep breath and focused on the familiar, soothing fantasy of laying Howard flat with a single, well-placed right hook. “I assure you, sir, this is all a misunderstanding. Captain Rogers and I are both well aware of - ”

“Did I look like I was done?” interrupted Phillips sharply, glowering at both of them. Peggy shook her head slightly, and Phillips sighed. “Against my better judgement, I’m about to do something I’m not one bit happy about. And only because I know you’re both likely to go ahead and do what you want anyway. Quite frankly, I can’t afford to lose either one of you right now, for which you are both _damned_ lucky.” 

Peggy and Steve exchanged a wide-eyed look as Phillips reached into the top folder on the stack on his desk and handed each of them a single slip of paper. “Typed these up myself, before Lorraine got in this morning.” He cleared his throat and fixed them both with a severe look. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that they need to stay unfiled along with the rest of the paperwork until - ” he broke off at a knock at the door.

“Sir?” Private Lorraine poked her head in. “General Bradley’s sent a runner to get your signature. He says it’s urgent.”

Phillips sighed. “Wait here,” he told them, sternly, and followed Lorraine into his outer office, closing the door behind him.

Peggy blinked at Steve, and then at the paper in her hand, which certified that Agent Margaret Elizabeth Carter of the SSR had been granted permission and 48 hours leave to marry Captain Steven Grant Rogers of the 107th Regiment. She leaned over to take a look at Steve's paper, which was identical to hers but for the reversal of the names and units. Steve seemed equally stunned as he reached over to take her free hand in his. He squeezed it. “Marry me,” he said, quietly. “Today.”

Peggy suppressed a smile. Steve was, despite appearances, often considerably more prone to the dramatic than most people realized. Perhaps it came from his time on the stage, although that had been after his stint at Camp Lehigh - during which he’d waited for the most dramatic moment to pull down the flag pole and then later flung himself onto a grenade that could have simply been kicked away. Then again, Peggy supposed, she herself had once shot at him in a fit of pique, so perhaps his theatrical streak was simply one more sign of compatibility. 

“I’m not sure we have a choice,” she said now, a bit wryly. “Apparently we have a number of terribly invested friends who have already arranged the whole thing. I’d hate to disappoint them.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, still sounding a little stunned, and Peggy laughed, a bit breathless herself, and leaned closer to him.

They jumped apart when the heard the doorknob turn, and Phillips gave them a weary look as he closed the door behind him. "This is exactly the kind of thing I don't want to be seeing,” he grumbled, although his lips were twitching a little. “And if I hear even a whisper of a rumour - ” he inclined his chin in Peggy's direction in acknowledgment of her earlier point, “a _credible_ rumour, about any hanky panky between the two of you, neither of you are going to enjoy the consequences."

“Understood, sir,” said Peggy. 

“It won’t happen again,” Steve assured him, at the same moment.

Phillips rolled his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” He sat back down behind his desk. “And so help me, if the press gets ahold of this, or if either of you so much as _looks_ at a baby before the war’s done, I’ll strangle you both myself.”

“I assure you, sir,” said Peggy, “you’d be second in line in that case.”

The corners of Phillips’ lips turned up a little further. “All right, get out of here. Enjoy your leave, and for God’s sake don’t tell me how it went. Dismissed.”

They both stood up, still a little stunned. “And congratulations,” he added, with a sudden, genuine smile, and then firmly waved them away.


End file.
